


“Power Has Been Cried by Those Stronger Than Me”

by Isala_Vhenan



Series: Dragon Age Oneshots [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alienages (Dragon Age), Anger, Angst, City Elf (Dragon Age) Origin, City Elves, Denerim (Dragon Age), Fighting Oppression, Gen, Minor Violence, Other, Resistance, Strong Female Characters, Warden Tabris (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isala_Vhenan/pseuds/Isala_Vhenan
Summary: This is a (very) short fic for Yara Tabris; I enjoyed writing this so I think I’ll do a sequel at some point...this is in response to a prompt from my tumblr.
Relationships: Adaia Tabris & Female Tabris, Shianni & Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Shianni & Tabris (Dragon Age)
Series: Dragon Age Oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718812
Kudos: 2





	“Power Has Been Cried by Those Stronger Than Me”

_Trapped_. That was what Yara feared the most; being trapped. Yet everyday she woke to the same reality that walls encapsulated everything she held dear, everything she would die to protect. Walls around her family, walls keeping her from what she wanted, walls that some said were put in place to keep them safe despite the knowledge they were viewed as rats in a maze. Walls in the Alienage were both protection and suffocation, prison and haven; these things were true and false at the same time. The paradox of living within a cage controlled by those her people wanted to keep out, created to keep her people in. 

Every morning she woke and remembered her mother’s words; _The shems think we’re weak and we let them. If they knew our true strength we would be killed. But if_ **_we_ ** _knew our true strength we wouldn’t be here. You have to be strong: strong enough to stand up for what’s right, to know what’s not, to protect those you love. To know when it’s time to strike, and when it’s time to stop._ Every morning as she brushed her long and tangled curls in the mirror as her mother had done for her years ago she spoke them aloud, reaffirming them to herself, fingers itching for blades her father had long hidden away. 

Now, at this moment, those words moved through her like she imagined the tide she’d heard of pushed through the ocean. Choices made for her, a marriage she didn’t wish for, intruders within their secure and stifling borders, walls around what she wanted, _walls weren’t what she wanted_ . The _shems_ were back again, with more vile and greedy demands; they could take what she wanted so easily. What could anyone do? All of them were considered less than the mud on these men’s shoes, and the Chantry woman surely wouldn’t stand up for _them_.

Neutrality was complicity and complicity was violence.

Everything in Yara burned hotter and hotter, something inside her screaming to get out; she wanted to act, to _do something_ \--one of the _shems_ grabbed Shianni and she met her cousin’s gaze, wild with terror and frustration at their powerlessness; it wasn’t weakness that held them all back but systemic terror, abuse, and deprivation. Why was it like this? When would it end? How could they stop it?

Something just like this had happened countless times before. Something just like this would happen countless times again. 

But not to them.

 _To know when it’s time to strike, and when it’s time to stop_. 

She knew. She struck.


End file.
